glance, that the chance for a bed was faint and small; and I asked Landlord Rufus for one doubtingly, as one would ask for a ready-made pulpit or piano at a common cabinet-maker’s shop.  He answered me clearly enough before he spoke, and he spoke as if answering a strange and half-impertinent question, looking at me searchingly, as if he suspected I was quizzing him.  His “No!” was short and decided; but, seeing I was honest and earnest in the inquiry, he softened his negative with the explanation that their beds were all full.  It seemed strange to me that this should be so in a building large enough for twenty, and I hesitated hopefully, thinking he might remember some small room in which he might put me for the night.  To awaken a generous thought in him in this direction, I intimated how contented I would be with the most moderate accommodation.  But it was in vain.  The house was full, and I must seek for lodging elsewhere.  There were two or three other public houses in the village that might take me in.  I went to them one by one.  They all kept plenty of beer, but no bed.  They, too, looked at me with surprise for asking for such a thing.  Apparently, there had been no demand for such entertainment by any traveller since the stage-coach ceased to run through the village.  I went up and down, trying to negotiate with the occupants of some of the best-looking cottages for a cot or bunk; but they had none to spare, as the number of wondering children that stared at me kindly, at once suggested before I put the question.

It was now quite dark, and I was hungry and tired; and the prospect of an additional six miles walk was not very animating.  What next?  I will go back to Landlord Rufus and try a new influence on his sensibilities.  Who knows but it will succeed?  I will touch him on his true character as a Briton.  So I went back, with my last chance hanging on the experiment.  I told him I was an American traveller, weary, hungry, and infirm of health, and would pay an extra price for an extra effort to give me a bed for the night.  I did not say all this in a Romanus-civus-sum sort of tone.  No! dear, honest Old Abe, you would have done the same in my place.  I made the great American Eagle coo like a dove in the request; and it touched the best instincts of the British Lion within the man.  It was evident in a moment that I had put my case in a new aspect to him.  He would talk with the “missus;” he withdrew into the back kitchen, a short conference ensued, and both came out together and informed me that they had found a bed, unexpectedly vacant, for my accommodation.  And they would get up some tea and bread and butter for me, too.  Capital!  A sentiment of national pride stole in between every two feelings of common satisfaction at this result.  The thought would come in and whisper, not for your importunity as a common fellow mortal were this bed and this loaf unlocked to you, but because you were an American citizen.